


Gold Stars | Glee/Supernatural Crossover

by ThorinBilbo



Category: Glee, Supernatural
Genre: Charlie is still alive, Dean thinks Rachel's annoying, F/M, Glee and Supernatural, Kevin is still alive, Multi, Rachel and Sam are going to be besties, Rachel thinks Dean's abrasive, This story is freeplay, cross - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28683069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThorinBilbo/pseuds/ThorinBilbo
Summary: Castiel just gave them the name and location. "Rachel Berry. She resides in New York City, but my sources tell me she is spending her spring break in a small town in Ohio called Lima." Rachel Berry is, unknowingly, on the verge of becoming the biggest target to ever exist for angels and demons alike. Castiel, in an effort to preserve her, sends Sam and Dean to kidnap her(Sam refused to let them sugarcoat it) and bring her back to the bunker for safe-keeping. And she's not at all happy about it. And neither is Dean because dealing with a whiny theater student that likes to belt her feelings instead of talking them out is quite possibly worse than the three months he spent in hell. But Castiel insists she needs to be protected, and she won't be able to be released until he finds an alternate solution. | Dean Winchester/Rachel Berry
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Rachel Berry, Rachel Berry/Finn Hudson, Sam Winchester/Quinn Fabray
Kudos: 3





	Gold Stars | Glee/Supernatural Crossover

"How far are we?" he asked. The road wasn't clustered like he had originally predicted it to be. They'd been alone on the road for about four hours now. When Sam didn't answer his question, Dean took his eyes off the road momentarily to see what was up. His brother was snoozing soundly in his seat, his cheek pressed up against the window. Dean hissed a silent curse, slapping his thigh a little harsher than he meant to. "Sammy! Get up! I need to know how much farther! Sammy!"

Sam grunted and flew straight up, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the car, but he narrowly missed because Dean jerked him away just in time. He blinked several times, trying to get ahold of his bearings and realize where they were. Then, it clicked. Eliciting a tiny yawn, Sam reached into his pocket and retrieved his cellphone, flipping it open and typing in the password Dean already secretly knew. _HPOTTER_. Really, Sam? Could he be more obvious? Dean watched him as well as the empty road, anxious to hear how much longer they had to remain in Baby before they arrived at their destination. 

"About another fifteen minutes before you take the next exit. I'll guide you from there," Sam mumbles, closing his phone and rubbing at his eyes. "How long was I out?"

"Dunno. While it may come as a surprise to you, Sammy, I don't watch you 24/7 the way you want me to," Dean teased. Sam rolled his eyes. "Mind giving me an update on the...target...again?"

Sam appeared to want to withhold the information, only just to be a dick since Dean had so rudely woken him up. But he knew he'd be pestered until he got the answer, so he leaned down and slipped his laptop from his bag and opened it, typing in the same exact password he had for his phone before opening the file he had downloaded from the flash drive that he constructed before they left Kansas. He would've asked Castiel to do it, but Castiel was as good with technology as he was with pop culture references. And he just found out _Star Wars_ was not, in fact, the movie with Greek god descendants going to camp together. 

"Rachel Berry, twenty-three years old, lives in New York City attending a university called...NYADA. She's a theater student, and Cas creepily gave us the details that she will be visiting her hometown for spring break...which is where we're going to kidnap her. We're kidnapping a person, Dean. I'm still not at all cool about this," Sam protested, finally able to get it off his chest now that Castiel wasn't here to hear it. Castiel just saw it as a simple mission. Retrieve the girl, bring her back to the bunker, keep her hidden. Simple. Except, this girl had a life, and friends, and family. 

"We're _taking her_ for safe-keeping, Sam. Don't try to twist this with your morale bull. Trust me, I wanna do this just as much as you do. But Cas said her life is in danger. And if her life is in danger, so is the rest of the world," Dean sighed, shoulders slumping. He had expected this argument to happen; he was kind of wishing Sam would just pass it off until they at least had the chick. But Sam didn't appear to think the same. "If the angels get their hands on her, they kill her. If the demons get their hands on her, they use her and then kill her, but that results in...a catastrophe. I don't know, man. Castiel put it a lot better than I could." 

Sam snorted sarcastically. "You know, why couldn't he get her? Why are we doing this for him?" 

"You're asking this now?"

"Yes, I'm asking this now." 

Dean huffed. He tightened his hold considerably on the steering wheel. Dean wasn't really mad at Sam. If anything, he was mad at Castiel. He didn't want to be out here either tracking a girl down with the intention to, as Sam put it, kidnap her. But he and Sam owed him. Not to mention if what he told them was true, this girl's safety meant a lot more than just one innocent life. As crazy as the tale was that had him and Sammy on the edge of their seats, it was as true as their destinies as the true vessels for Michael and Lucifer. This chick needed to be put into hiding as soon as possible. 

"Said he was gonna try to interfere with any search parties that are doing the same as us, lookin' for her. While he tries to intercept her other captors, we're supposed to step in and get the job done, but I have no clue how we'll even manage that. A broad who wants to get paid for being dramatic? She'll have the cops on our asses before we can even get her in Baby." Dean explained to the best of his ability. That was the spiel Castiel had thrown at him when Dean was packing up his duffle bag for the road. The journey from Kansas to Ohio was not at all pleasant or easy, even if they had the highway to themselves for now. 

"But...why? What exactly do the angels and demons have on her? What makes her so special?" Sam asked, shaking his head. 

"Beats me. If I wanted to go down the prophecy lane, I'd call up Kevin, but he's made it abundantly clear that isn't the way to go. And his mom could potentially shoot us for even getting him involved with angels and demons. Again. Look, man, we're not supposed to understand. That's Cas' job. We're just the delivery boys," Dean shrugs, pulling back into the right lane as the time ticked on longer. He'd be taking the exit soon. 

"And since when have we been clued on anything he does?" Sam mumbles. He points ahead. "There's the exit."

Dean signaled and began turning the wheel. 

"This Rachel hot, at least?"

Sam frowned. Dean didn't give anything to indicate he was joking, so Sam begrudgingly looked through the school website until he found the senior photos of 2012, the year she graduated. He scrolled until he found her name, blowing up the photo so it took up his phone screen, before showing it to Dean. Dean took the phone and stared at the screen for a long moment before handing it back. 

"Cute chick, but her schnoz is a little too big," Dean commented. Sam scoffed. 

"Dude, you are so shallow," Sam insulted, tucking his phone back into his pocket, wracking his mind for the directions once Dean came up onto a t-section. "Take a right. We haven't even discussed how the hell we're supposed to do this. Like...do we show up at her place and throw her in a burlap sack? Do we pull a Matrix and just tell her to come with us? What's the goal?" 

"I was thinking we do a spur of the moment kind of thing. Or..." An idea suddenly struck Dean. "Dude, you have social media?"

Sam looked surprised. "No?"

"Make one for that one app, uh... _Instagram_. Find her on there," Dean instructed skillfully as he pulled up to a stoplight. At last he started seeing other cars, all of them either going for a midnight drive or attending a graveyard shift for their job. When Sam didn't move, Dean made a grab for his pocket where Sam's cellphone was bulging out. Instinctively, Sam slapped his hand and pulled the phone to his face, grumbling loudly as he scrolled to the app store and began to download the app. 

"Still don't see the goal here, Dean," Sam complained, looking up. "You're gonna wanna take a right about two blocks from here. After that, take the first left, and we'll find the motel." The app concluded its downloading and Sam was able to click on the little icon and began to formulate his profile. When he was silent for too long, Dean began to get frustrated. 

"Is there a reason you've decided to take a detour?" Dean demanded. "What the hell are you doing?"

Sam flushed. "I was writing a bio. Give me a break!" He paused, not noticing the glare his brother was shooting at him. "Okay....now what?"

"Look her up, like I said before," Dean huffs. Sam mimicked Dean quietly, typing in Rachel's name, surprised to see her profile pop up with her posing in her profile picture next to a golden trophy. He clicked on her name and was taken to her profile, where a majority of her posts seemed to feature her and a soft-faced blue eyed boy. He showed it to Dean. "Her latest post, click it." 

Sam obliged. This particular photo seemed to be her and the same blue eyed boy posing jokingly in a vanity mirror inside a relatively childish bedroom. It must be hers, seeing as Sam could spot a collage of photos taped to the wall in the back, a majority of them being her posing with a boy in a football uniform. The caption finally gave away Dean's intentions: ' _ **Can't wait to sit in on the New Directions rehearsal tomorrow at #McKinleyHigh! Gotta make sure they're Regionals ready!**_ '. Sam read it aloud to Dean, who was grinning proudly. 

"Now we know where she's gonna be. Who's the man, Sammy? Tell me!"

"Dean?"

"What?"

"You missed the turn."

* * *

This motel in Lima, Ohio was quite possibly the most dingy one they'd ever stayed at. The motel clerk was adamant they didn't use too much hot water while showering, lest they want brown water to suddenly smother them. The mattresses had odd stains on them, some of them looking eerily similar to blood, while the windows were boarded up quite literally from the outside-in. But what could they do? At most, they'd be staying here one night, get Rachel in the morning, be back in Kansas soon enough so Castiel could pick things up. 

Sam was leaning back on one of the beds, his laptop across his lap as he typed noisily while Dean stepped out of the shower, steam following him. Sam gaped. 

"Please tell me you didn't use hot water for your entire shower, Dean."

Dean smirked. 

"So now I'm stuck with the cold shower?"

"Hey, you snooze, you lose, man. Rules are rules. I feel like I got all the driving stink off me." Dean flopped on his own bed, dressed only in a grey pair of boxers. "Although, I feel like I just made myself dirty again with this mattress. Have these guys ever heard of house cleaning?" 

"I don't know, man, I-"

" _Hello, Dean_."

Dean scrambled to pull the comforter over his bare body as Castiel stood in between both beds, looking at Dean, confused. 

"Cas, what the hell are you doing here?" Dean asked, completely out of breath. 

"I thought the whole point of this was for you to intercept the kidnapping ring so we could grab the girl?" Sam demanded as Dean yanked the comforter up to cover his chest, as if that was in any way sinful considering his sexual appetite with most women. 

"I've managed to curb the more sinister parties, but only temporarily. I figured I could check to see you two were well within reach of Rachel Berry that I didn't have to worry about any sudden alterations to the plan, had you failed to follow proper procedure," Castiel explained, sitting on the end of his bed. He glanced down at the mattress. "This place is rather filthy."

"Tell me about it," Dean grunted. "This all better be worth it."

"Since we have you here now, think you can tune us in on why this girl is so important?" Sam asked, shutting his laptop. 

Castiel shook his head. "It's much too complicated, too complex for your simple minds to grasp. Just do as I say and get Rachel."

"Gee, Cas, I get a little tingly when you get all bossy like that," Dean said sarcastically, followed with a roll of his eyes. "You can't just dumb it down for us?"

"I will clue you in once you retrieve the girl and have her in the safety of the bunker. Be sure to oblige to most of her needs. As you probably already know, she'll need food, water, perhaps a room if you're feeling generous. And, if you can as quickly as possible, have her provide a bag of her belongings so she won't be stuck adorned in flannel shirts and skinny jeans."

"Was that a joke, Cas?" Sam asked. 

"Indeed, it was. And I rather enjoyed it. Now, you two should get some rest. You both have a big day tomorrow. Seeing as you are, indeed, in Lima, Ohio, the plan is being tended to accordingly. Remember, grab Rachel Berry, gather enough of her belongings, have her safely transported to the bunker. I will see you then once you contact me, assuring me the job was accomplished. I appreciate the both of you doing this for me." Castiel nodded his head. With a flap of his non-visible wings, he was gone.

"Wow, that definitely helped!" Sam said sarcastically, finally pushing his laptop from his lap and getting to his feet. "Now, I get to go take a cold shower while you get to sleep, knowing you had a nice shower."

"Worth every drop, Sammy," Dean grins, leaning back, flexing his arms that were cradling his head as he closed his eyes, waiting impatiently for Sam to disappear into the bathroom before he shifted onto his side and grabbed his cellphone, dialing a number, and pressing it incessantly into his ear. It picked up after two rings. "You have a lotta nerve just poppin' in here like that and disappearin' the next, you know. Sammy's on edge enough, and the lack of information is gonna make him even more nervous tomorrow."

" _This is bigger than Sam's feelings, Dean. It's bigger than yours. Rachel Berry's safety ensures the safety of a great deal more humans that are unaware of the turning events both in heaven and hell. I suppose without giving much away, I can assure you if heaven gets ahold of her, they will kill her instantly to prevent catastrophe. If hell retrieves her instead, they will use her, then kill her. And what follows is utter chaos that most likely cannot be prevented by some spur of the moment thinking that often get you and your brother out of your messes. Neither end is even feasible. This is our only option. I trust you respect that?_ " Cas' long speech nearly put Dean to sleep. 

"Oh, yeah, I respect that. Just like I respect you sucking-"

" _I do not have time for your gruesome threats, Dean. I've miscalculated a group's arrival, and I need to find them before they escape my radar. I am wasting time talking to you. Get some sleep and do as you're told tomorrow. Goodbye._ " Click. Castiel had hung up, leaving Dean to lay there like an idiot. He grumbled incoherently, shutting off his cellphone and placing it on the charger before rolling over, punching his pillow a few times to fluff it up, albeit a little aggressively. He angrily shut his eyes, vaguely aware of Sam's loud curses from the cold shower that Dean had purposely left him with. 

* * *

Leave it to Sam to have the most annoying alarm tone ever. It was some kind of niche indie song Dean's never heard of, but Garth's playlist that he had sent the brothers had clearly been favored by Sam, as this song had been from it. He turned his head towards his brother's bed, grabbing his pillow and chucking it at him. Sam grunted, shooting up instantly, looking around until his eyes fell on his brother. Glowering, while still ignoring his alarm, Sam took his pillow and chucked it back to Dean, managing to hit him in the face. With a satisfied harrumph, Sam grabbed his cellphone and shut the alarm off, swinging the comforter off of himself in order to approach his duffel bag. 

"C'mon, we need to get going. School starts in an hour," Sam instructed.

"I don't wanna go to school," Dean whined, running a hand down his face. 

Sam snorts, shaking his head. "C'mon, man, the faster we get Rachel, the faster we get out of here." When Dean didn't move, Sam aimed a kick at his mattress. "C'mon, Dean, getting her at the school was your idea. Let's go! And since I'm up first, that means I get the first shower. I'm taking up as much hot water as I can." With that, Sam grabbed his duffel and zoomed into the bathroom before Dean even had a chance to throw the blanket off of him. 

It took them the whole hour to get dressed, mostly because Dean had to take a second shower because he took a chance at using the hot water, but all that spewed from the showerhead was something icky and brown. At last, they were both dressed in their signature FBI attire, making themselves look important before shoving their Ohio district IDs down their coat pockets before grabbing their bags, keys, and piling into Baby in order to drive to McKinley High. That was the place Rachel had posted about the night before, something about the New Directions, whatever the hell that was. Sam presumed it was some kind of improv group. 

The school itself was an indefinite improvement compared to the motel. It looked like the most modernized constructed building in this rundown town, save for the vehicles found in the parking lot. Dean couldn't help but feel a little prideful in his vehicle, more than he already was, because of how much better it looked compared to the other cars. He had selfishly taken up one of the free teacher parking spots, despite Sam's protests, switched off the car, and stepped out. 

The parking lot was littered with high school students, despite the clock indicating classes had already begun. Dean followed the flow of traffic, trying to ignore the stares they were already receiving by the looks of their clothes. Although, they could just be looking at Sam, because he somehow reached the goddamn ozone layer all on his own accord. 

The inside of the school was painted in their signature colors, red and white. The sea of students all meshed together, making it hard to follow a face that stood out. On either side of the hall walls were red lockers, doors, and bathroom entrances. Where there was space, there seemed to be banners and posters pinned up, all praising the 'Titans', which Dean assumed was the school's mascot. Sam was gazing at each of the students, wracking his mind on whether or not Rachel would be amongst them. Then again, he thought over, she mentioned attending the New Directions rehearsals, so he had to find out where the New Directions were performing. 

"So...where the hell do we start?" Dean asked quietly. They had slid off to the side of the hallway in order not to get stuck in the traffic jam. There were boys in varsity jackets, girls adorned in skimpy cheerleading uniforms, and Dean could spot a few ribbons with a girl's face on them with the word 'VOTE' in bold lettering across her forehead. It was a stereotypical high school. There didn't seem to be anything special about it. But Dean couldn't spot Rachel amongst them, trying to keep her face in his mind from the _Instagram_ and yearbook photo that Sammy had shown him. 

"First, we need to find out what the hell the New Directions are, then we need to find out where and when they rehearse....then we find her and...still trying to find that bright idea of how the hell we're going to get her into the Impala and out to Kansas," Sam mumbled quietly, still looking around, trying to avoid the appreciative gazes from the young girls that liked what they were seeing. "We should talk to one of the teachers, maybe the principal? Did you see the main office on our way here in this traffic jam?" 

"Nope," Dean said, exchanging a smirk with one of the cheerleaders. She was petite and tiny with green eyes and blonde hair, which had been pulled back in a neat ponytail. Sam elbowed him angrily, making him yelp. He pinched Sam's side in retaliation, making him slap at his hand. Before they could engage in an all-out brawl, they were suddenly interrupted by the tiniest cheerleader of them all. She walked up to them, pushing her glasses further up her nose. They noticed she had down-syndrome, but that didn't seem to stop her confident smile as she pulled expectantly at Sam's sleeve. 

"Coach Sylvester is requesting you two in her office," she explained. Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Who the hell was Coach Sylvester and why was she asking for them? Perhaps the principal served as both? 

"Uh...we actually need to speak with the principal," Sam said, angling his head down; she was quite short compared to him. "Is Coach Sylvester the principal here at McKinley?"

"No," she sneers, wrinkling her nose. "If I tell her you two didn't comply, she'll make me break out the hose again." 

Sam and Dean did a double-take. Did they hear her correctly? 

"Now, take your fine asses and follow me!" she ordered, turning around and walking down the hall, which was considerably emptier now that everyone had gotten to their classes. 

"Uh...what the hell do we do in this situation?" Sam asked quietly. 

"I guess we take our fine asses and follow her," Dean responded quietly, straightening his tie as he briskly walked down the hallway to follow the tiny cheerleader. Sam looked over his shoulder, back to Dean, back to the hall behind him, before sighing dramatically and moving quickly to follow them. Despite how tiny she was, the girl proved to be very fast, taking a left and stopping at a decorated door with the word 'SYLVESTER' printed on the door jam beside it. It looked dark, which told Sam there was no one inside until it opened and he was face to face with a woman nearly as tall as he was with short-cut bleached blonde hair adorned in a red and white tracksuit. 

"Got them, Coach!" the cheerleader exclaimed proudly. 

"Aye, aye, Becky, you may stand down. Get to class." Coach Sylvester ordered. 'Becky' saluted her proudly, giving Sam and Dean a wink and a smile, before going back down the hallway they had come from. That left both brothers with this woman, who was eyeing them both like they were pieces of meat she found stuck between her teeth. "Boys, I have a camera in each blind spot this school has, all that are programmed to show up on my 50-inch HD television that was given to me by hand from one Miss Olivia Newton-John as a thank-you for the meticulous reprise of her hit song Physical. Granted, I would've preferred half the profits, but it does the job fine. And I couldn't help but notice a nice Impala pulled up in my parking lot beside my one-of-a-kind beloved LeCar. And I knew I just had to meet you two face-to-face. We don't get folks like you normally around here. Why don't you step into my office?"

"Uh," Dean's mouth had gone dry. Sam could see he had gotten a lot paler, too. "Actually...we're here t-to talk with the principal about-"

"I said," Coach Sylvester paused to get up in Dean's face, putting them practically nose-to-nose, "step into my office."

"Of course," Dean smiled weakly. She grinned and stepped back, leaving the door open for them to follow her inside. "I'm scared, Sammy." He cleared his throat, flattened the front of his suit, and walked inside. Sam followed closely behind. 

The office was littered with trophies(all gold, no silver or bronze), plaques, and medals. The school colors bled all over the walls, carpeting, and desk that divided the room. There were several travel-cups, a laptop, and a tiny journal that took up a majority of the space upon her desk. She had sat calmly behind her desk, folding her arms above her laptop. There were two available foldable chairs across from the desk. Sam and Dean took one respectively, looking around in amazement at all of the accomplishments this woman had been awarded. 

"Now, then, let's cut the bull. I have only a class period before I have to get onto the football field and chew my cheerleading squad a new one because the barf bags I so generously provided to them for their weekly weight loss came back a little too light," Coach Sylvester explained, staring exaggeratingly at her watch. "Let's start with your names, shall we?"

"Um, I'm Burt Macklin, part of the Ohio division, and this is Agent Drake Ramoray, my partner. We're fixated on a lead concerning a growing case that has to remain confidential unless there is a party involved. And one of them happens to be visiting the school here today, and we intend to find her and just ask a few questions to clear the air," Dean lied expertly, though Sam could see he wasn't exactly meeting Coach Sylvester's eyes. "If you could, perhaps, direct us to her, it'd be a great help. You understand."

"A case in Lima, Ohio? And they had to call two FBI agents out of the blue to scope out some lowlife high school that can't even afford to keep the tapioca pudding Principal Figgins has hiding underneath his desk? I don't think so. What are you really doing here?" she demanded quietly, glaring between the both of them. "I should warn you I practically have a lie detector built into the retinas of my beautiful blue eyes here. If I get so much as a twitch, I'll have you two escorted out here by the actual police. Hopefully I could score that beautiful Impala from the impound lot; I hear they auction them off if they're not claimed fast enough. And I never lose an auction, just ask Becky." 

Sam cleared his throat, loosening his tie slightly, as it had suddenly gotten too stuffy. This woman was nuts! Did him and Dean suddenly walk into some kind of alternate reality? How could they fight monsters, angels, and demons but suddenly feel petrified to be in the presence of some small-town high school cheerleading coach? It just didn't make sense, but Sam wasn't about to voice that, not with Coach Sylvester staring him down like she was reading his mind. He wondered, for a moment, if she really could detect lies. He had to remind himself that was stupid. 

"We're serious, ma'am. We're here to speak with Rachel Berry. As our sources have let us know, she was to be here today attending a New Directions rehearsal. We just need to know when and where that is being held so we may find her," Sam spoke, keeping his eyes steady, never flinching, never giving any indication that he was clearly lying his ass off. Dean remained quiet by his side, trying his best not to look away from her. "We would have gone to her home establishment, but the information disclosed to us explained she was spending her spring break here in her hometown, rather than her apartment residence in New York. Since you're keeping us from doing our job, I'd be happy to alert our captain and have him speak with you personally." He took out his cellphone for scare, a hint of a smirk on his face. 

Coach Sylvester stared for a long time. For a moment, Sam was worried she was just going to snatch up her phone and dial the police like she planned. Him and Dean would have to make a run for it and find a way to get Rachel some other way. Castiel would be livid if they made big spectacles of themselves, more than they already were. At last, however, Coach Sylvester let out a loud laugh, unfolding her arms and tossing her head back. Sam and Dean said nothing, unsure of whether this was a good sign or not. 

"There will be no need for that," Coach Sylvester said, wiping a tear from her eye. "I probably already have a bounty out on my head from every country besides Bolivia. Wouldn't wanna raise any unnecessary red flags. You understand. If you want to find the gremlin that, at last, left these halls a year ago, I suggest finding the choir room. That's where the New Directions rehearse. I recommend taking a pair of earplugs for the both of you just to spare yourselves from listening to the newly rendered Sesame Street band who are all but missing a big, fat yellow bird."

"So...the New Directions are a choir?" Dean asked. 

"Glee club, to be more precise. The cult leader happens to be Will Shuester. Head resembles that of an infant's butt with perverted curly hair. Has a strange agreement with sweater vests. If you find him, you'll find Rachel Berry." Coach Sylvester explained, seeming a lot kinder now that she was talked down by Sam. Clearly, she didn't want anyone called down to speak with her. That should raise a lot of red flags, but Sam and Dean were too busy to care. "Now...get the hell out of my office." 

At once, Sam and Dean got to their feet and left the room, closing the door behind them and putting several feet between them. 

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked once they were out of earshot.

"I have absolutely no clue," Sam said, looking over his shoulder to be sure she wasn't following them. "What kind of town is this? Who lets a woman like that near children?"

"I don't know, man, but let's just hope Will Shuester ain't that kinda crackpot." Dean said, holding a hand over his heart. "Well, now we know what to look for. Now we just need to find the choir room. Shouldn't be too hard. Just follow the stench of virgin loneliness."

"C'mon, man," Sam sighed, rolling his eyes. "Be serious."

"Alright, alright, c'mon, before we get pulled into the janitor's closet and get interrogated by some French teacher," Dean ordered, walking down the corridor, staring down each door and peeking inside to see anything that would indicate music was played inside. 


End file.
